She reached toward the nightstand next to her queen-size bed, trying to make contact with her cell phone, cracking her knuckles on the end table at the same time that she registered the leathery texture beneath her cheek. She was on the couch. With a quick glance at Sammie, who was asleep on the other end of the couch, his bare feet touching her, she grabbed the phone off the table, pushing the answer button as soon as she’d made contact with the device. Sammie had had a rough couple of nights. She didn’t want him disturbed. “Hello?” She spoke in a whisper until she was outside the front door. “Morgan, honey?” Her stomach sank. She knew that tone of voice. “Yeah, Mom, what’s up?” Her father’s bidding, she knew that much. There’d be a price to pay for Friday night’s debacle. “I have a favor to ask you, sweetie.”
